The Gift
by beckylee23
Summary: Pining leads to baking which leads to repressed feelings being expressed via baked goods packages left on doorsteps. Leonard McCoy x Reader AU
1. Intro

It had all been very carefully thought out. 

With the exception of the sensor light that had had you moving a lot faster than anticipated (read: running), you had been in and out without a sound. Excluding, of course, the pants and wheezes that you had made while legging it back to your place. All you had to do now was wait - and tell Christine, obviously, because there would be hell to pay if she found out from Leonard. 

Because you knew she was out and wanted to speak as little about it as possible, you wanted to leave what you had hoped was going to be a simple message that put her in the know without revealing too much. Your brain had another idea.

"Hey Christine. Hey. I, uh, I did it. That thing we were talking about, you know? It's done. I know I said I wouldn't do it, alright, I know, but I was bored and may have had a couple glasses of that wine that you so conveniently left at my place and one thing led to another. Maybe a few glasses actually. Tell him it was me and I will end you. End. You. Besides, you point the finger at me and I'll point mine right back at you."


	2. The Gift

It had been a couple days since you'd left your homemade gift on Leonard's doorstep, and though you had heard that he was making subtle enquiries regarding the identity of the one who had left it, he still had no idea that it was you. 

He finally got around to asking you about it when he bumped into you while you were grocery shopping after work. 

"You think I ran out into the freezing cold night to drop that off on your porch?" You deflected like your life depended on it, because honestly the way your heart was going off it sure seemed like it did. 

"Hearing you say it out loud does make it seem a bit ridiculous." His smile was apologetic as he shrugged somewhat awkwardly. "If you hear anything let me know, alright?" 

"Definitely. You will be the first to know." 

He had taken a few steps away when you called out to him, and he turned back. 

"Hey, the jam? Was it nice?" 

"Why do you ask?" 

"I just...really like jam. All jams. Marmalades if the mood hits me, but fresh jam and cream on scones still hot from the oven? Words cannot describe how incredible that is." 

"You'll have to show me sometime. You could try the jam then, too. It's delicious." His smile betrayed his amusement, and he gave a final wave before heading towards the checkouts. 

You were going to tell him soon, you really were, but...maybe just not yet. You would, however, get some fresh cream for whipping. Just in case. 

The weather turned quickly while you were finishing up inside, and by the time you made it back to your car the clouds were heavy and dark, the air thick with petrichor. Rumbles of thunder followed you home, and the first flashes of lightning streaked across the sky as you dashed inside, just barely missing the rain that fell fast and heavy. 

The message light on your answering machine was flashing, so you pressed play while you were heating up leftovers for dinner and pouring a glass of Christine's wine. 

"Y/N, I cannot believe you actually listened to what I was saying for once. Of course I did also tell you to leave a note, which I hear you absolutely did not, but baby steps I suppose. You should have heard some of the awkward conversations he had today while trying to figure out who left that jam - how he hasn't already figured it out I'll never understand. Don't worry, he won't hear it from me. Tell him soon, won't you?" 

Christine was right, you would have to tell him soon, but not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow night either. 

Maybe next week.


	3. Christine I did it again

The scent of banana bread fresh from the oven permeated every inch of your house, filling you with nostalgia and an almost mad amount of giddiness. 

The storm that had rolled in last night was still in full swing, leaving you trapped indoors on your day off, but baking relaxed you like nothing else could so you were feeling pretty good. You had two loaves of banana bread on the bench, one for you and one already wrapped up for Leonard. Thanks to Christine you knew Leonard was currently at work, so while the weather was not at all ideal for a quick trip to his house, not having to deal with his sensor light really tipped the scales for you, and once the bread was cool enough you wrapped it up and headed over. 

A quick reverse into his driveway, a sprint across the yard, and an Olympics-worthy leap up the stairs and it was done, your latest gift left neatly on the mat in front of his door. You, on the other hand, were not so neat. The quick sprint had left you looking like something the cat dragged in, so you ran straight for the shower while your pot of tea steeped. 

Refreshed and finally warm, you set about pulling dinner ingredients from the fridge while you called Christine, making sure to call her home phone so there was no chance she'd actually answer. 

"Christine I did it again. Before you do that sigh though just hear me out. It was not at all planned. Did I know that my banana bread always makes two loaves? Of course I did. Had I intended for one of those loaves to be his from the get-go? Deep down, subconsciously, probably also yes. But Conscious Me had no idea until one of them was wrapped and ready. I think I have a problem. I need help. Help me." 

Christine's response came much later, while you were in the throes of a stress clean, unable to hear the phone over the sounds of the vacuum. 

"You idiots are made for each other. Put your loaf in the freezer."


	4. Surprise Brunch Date

The storm had cleared up overnight, leaving in its wake blue skies and a delightfully cool breeze. All your windows were thrown open to the wind, you had sheets already drying on the line, flapping around the lavender you had planted at the base of the clothesline, and you had just pulled a tray of scones from the oven.

Okay, so Leonard didn't know that you were the one who sent the jam (and the banana bread), but the release from just putting it out there was _wonderful._

Wonderful and slightly stressful, hence the baking. You hadn't gone too overboard, though. Sure your freezer was a little on the full side, but you weren't going to be short on baked goods for the foreseeable future. Unless whatever Christine had planned fell through. Then you might look into setting up shop at the local Sunday markets.

Swaying along to the lilting tunes of an old love song, you made your way outside to the garden, scissors in hand. It was while you were cutting flowers to take inside that you heard a soft knock on your back gate. Once you called out your visitor made their way through, and you were surprised to see Leonard making his way over to you.

"I'm not interrupting anything I hope."

His smile was tentative, hopeful, and you smiled happily in return.

"Not at all! The flowers are blooming so prettily that I thought I'd bring some inside for my table. Would you like some?"

"I'm afraid I wouldn't have a vase to put them in." He came to crouch beside you, looking over your handiwork.

"I save my jam jars; they're the perfect size for pansies and alyssum. You'll just have to visit me again once you've got something. Alyssum always smells so lovely." You lifted a cutting for him to smell, and felt your face warm when he held your hand to bring it closer.

"Sweet, but not overly so. I like it."

All you could do was smile up at him, though you were so flustered that you worried you were looking rather foolish instead of unbelievably happy.

"So what brings you to my backyard?"

He only just now released your hand to grin sheepishly. "I hope you don't mind; I was out on a walk and could smell something amazing."

"Fresh scones," you smiled, and laughed at the hopeful look on his face. "You're welcome to have some with me. I always make too many and it would be nice to have some company."

"I'd have to be mad to turn down fresh scones."

"I suppose you'd better come in, then."

He had only been to your house a handful of times previously, but he remembered his way about and was seated at your kitchen table in no time.

"It's a good day for a walk," you started as you busied yourself getting the table set.

"I like wandering around, but it's always nicer after a storm has hit. The air is fresher and everything is washed clean."

While he talked you set about getting the accompaniments for scones, setting them on the table as you went. The scones were presented with a flourish, and when you turned to the table with your teapot in hand he gave you a sheepish smile.

"It's no real accident that I came by this way. I've been wanting to stop by."

"You- why?"

Leonard rubbed the back of his neck, an endearing move that had about five of your Nanna's recipes coming to mind.

"Well, I had another delivery yesterday, and when I was talking to Christine about it she suggested I come see you."

"She's about as subtle as a brick." You muttered, though he clearly heard it as he grinned in agreeance.

"She is that. I found banana bread on the porch, and she said you had a fondness for it, so I wondered if you'd like to come by sometime and have some with me."

You sat hastily, setting the teapot down in the middle of the table and dishing out scones. "I would. I would like to, thank you. It's one of my favourites."

"To be honest darlin' I haven't tried it yet, but if it tastes even half as good as it smells I'll be happy."

"Oh you will," you said absentmindedly as you poured the tea.

Leonard laughed. "You seem so sure."

_Fuck._

"Well it's- it's banana bread. You can't lose."

"Got a point there. I don't think I've ever had a bad loaf."

"The key is to use bananas that are so overripe that they're about a day away from going bad; you can really taste the difference."

He smiled happily as he slathered his buttered scone with jam and cream. "You'll have to teach me sometime. I like hearing you talk so seriously about baking."

"I could talk about baking all day if you let me. If you really do want to learn, though, I'll be happy to teach you a few recipes. Or if you've got something you wanna attempt we could give it a go."

"I've a few family recipes I wouldn't mind trying my hand at. I think I'd struggle to get them right on my own and your help would be appreciated."

"You've got it whenever you need it. Baking is much more fun with company, and I quite like yours."

"I like yours, too."

He held eye contact with you long enough for your butterflies to return with a vengeance, and after a moment you turned your attention back to your scone, missing the way his smile widened.

While you awkwardly ate your scone in parts, wanting to save Leonard from seeing you manage to get cream all over your face, he finished his in two huge bites, sighing happily through the mouthful.

"See? I told you this jam was good."

You silently choked your way through the last of your mouthful, quickly washing it down with a hefty sip of tea as the realisation dawned on him.

"This...this is _your_ jam," he said quietly, slowly looking up from his plate. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, I had intended to, but I got so worked up about how you'd respond that I- I ended up giving you banana bread instead."

"You said it wasn't you." He sounded hurt, and your heart broke a little.

Too nervous to lay your hand over his, you settled with sliding it close enough that your fingertips brushed against his. "I didn't technically. Rather I just...avoided saying yes. I panicked, and for that I'm sorry."

"Did you think I'd reject you?" His fingers lifted, gently stroked up yours in an infinitesimal move that left you feeling slightly lightheaded and immensely relieved.

"You mean too much to me for a rejection to mean so little." Emboldened, you turned your hand over, allowing his fingers to continue their movements along your palm and up to your wrist. "I don't think I could stand it if we weren't friends anymore."

"That will never change, sweetheart. We wouldn't be as close as we are now if I didn't feel the same way about you."

You curled your fingers up, just enough to touch them to his wrist, and he settled his hand over yours, his soft smile a match for the one you couldn't seem to keep off your face.


End file.
